


Achievement Unlocked

by chasingriver



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Fluff and Humor, Gaming, Humor, Inception Reverse Big Bang Challenge, M/M, Video & Computer Games, arthur/salad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver
Summary: Eames and Yusuf work at Whole Foods. Yusuf and his friends, Ari and Arthur, get together for caffeine-fueled game nights. When Yusuf drags Eames along, none of them realize Arthur is the customer Eames has had a crush on. Also, it turns out, Eames sucks at videogames.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2016 Inception Reverse Bang. 
> 
> Initial Reverse Bang art by kateison/kavinskysdick. Additional photomanips by youcantsaymylastname. 
> 
> Many thanks to youcantsaymylastname, who thought of the grocery store angle, helped me brainstorm it, and then provided all kinds of support along the way. 
> 
> Many thanks also to kate_the_reader for beta-ing it.

 

 

 

 

“Good morning,” Eames said, and waited the eight milliseconds necessary to determine that Hot Suit Guy wasn’t going to lift his eyes from his phone in response. “Would you like a bag?”

Eames didn’t bag-shame, like some of the cashiers. Charlotte’s passive-aggressive “Do you need to buy a bag today?” was a bit much, and he didn’t believe in making his customers feel bad.

Hot Suit Guy’s eyes were still glued to his phone and he made a non-committal noise, which Eames interpreted as a ‘Yes.’ At least he didn’t have to ask ‘paper or plastic?’ anymore, since Whole Foods had banned plastic long ago.

At the rustle of paper, the guy looked up. “I said no. I don’t need a bag.”

“Oh, sorry.” Well, the small interaction was better than nothing. He placed the organically grown apple on top of the eco-friendly cardboard salad bar container and waited for him to run his credit card through the machine.

He signed the little screen (an illegible scribble, unfortunately) and put the card away in a very expensive-looking wallet in an interior pocket of his suit. God knows it wouldn’t have fit in his exquisitely tailored trousers.

Eames handed the items to Hot Suit Guy, who balanced them precariously in one hand while he held his phone and Starbucks cup in the other. To be honest, he’d have been better off with a bag.

“Thanks,” Eames said. “Have a nice lunch.”

He looked back. “What? Oh, yeah. Thanks.” It seemed as if lunch was the last thing on his mind.

 

* * *

 

Eames didn’t mind his job as a cashier at Whole Foods. It paid the bills and the people-watching was good. It wasn’t something he wanted to do for the rest of his life, but he’d let Future Eames deal with that.

“I’m taking my break,” he said to Charlotte, and headed for the back. He was getting his yogurt from the fridge (the one with ‘Eames’ written on it in black sharpie — honestly, it was worse than being in university), when Yusuf walked in.

“Hey,” Eames said, “good timing.”

“Russ and I finished the dry goods truck and everything’s set to go for the night crew. He said I could go on break.”

“Nice.” Eames sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs and tipped it onto its back legs as he ate his yogurt.

“So,” said Yusuf, “what tales of customer idiocy do you have for me today?”

“Well, Organic Dad added his phone to the long list of things he’s forgotten.”

“At least this time it wasn’t his kid.”

“He seemed more worried about the iPhone,” Eames deadpanned.

“Anything good on the lockscreen?”

“Some dark-haired woman, guess it’s his wife. I was expecting a kid picture.”

“Or a puppy or something,” Yusuf said.

Eames shrugged, the conversational prospects of the phone lockscreen having hit a dead end. “Whiny Rich Guy came through again.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Today he had sushi. There was one person in front of him, so he kept glaring at me and looking at his watch. I pretended the receipt printer jammed, just to make him wait.”

“God, you’re evil,” Yusuf said, laughing.

Eames gave him a wicked grin. “Oh, and I saved the best for last.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he’s a first-timer, but I’m hoping he becomes a regular.”

Yusuf gave him a salacious look. “Do tell.”

“Hot Suit Guy.”

Yusuf broke into laughter before Eames could get any further.

“It’s just a preliminary name but it’s accurate.”

“Okay. Analysis?”

“His suit is nicer than Whiny Rich Guy’s are. He has some fashion sense. Salad’s from the salad bar, not pre-made. He likes to think he’s being healthy but I saw blue cheese and walnuts on it, so he’s not fooling anyone.”

“Not you, at least.”

“I’m not done. An apple — Gala, no imagination. Although if it’d been Red Delicious I’d have written him off without a second glance, because ugh. But here’s the interesting part: he had a Starbucks cup.”

“Oh god, not you and your coffee analysis again.”

“You’re just jealous because I know what all the shorthand means.”

A part time job as a barista during university had provided Eames with three useful skills: how to work an espresso machine, dealing with pre-caffeinated customers, and knowing what all the letters stand for on the side of a Starbucks cup.

“So here’s the thing,” Eames continued, “he’s trying to look all healthy, with the apple and the salad, but he’s drinking a venti three-shot hazelnut latte. Do you know how many calories are in those things?”

“No.”

“Well, given the type of the milk and how many shots of syrup, about …” he looked up at the ceiling, doing the math, “280 calories. And a hell of a lot of caffeine.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. That’s a lot for someone who’s trying to impress his coworkers with an apple.”

“Maybe he likes apples,” Yusuf said.

Eames gave him an incredulous look. “No one really _likes_ apples.”

“Well, this should make things entertaining for a while. You’re nuts, you know.”

“You’re just jealous that I can read coffee cups.”

“So, what’s his name?”

Eames bristled at the question. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? They put it on the side of the cup, right?”

“Well, they put _something,_ yes. In this case, it was the letter ‘A’ with a large heart next to it.”

“Oh my god,” Yusuf said, nearly choking on the water he’d been drinking.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re not the only one who thinks he’s hot.”

“No,” Eames said, unamused. “Apparently not.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur knocked on the locked glass door of the Game Stop.

“We’re closed!” he heard Ari yell from inside, and then, “Oh, it’s you.” She came over and unlocked the door.

“Thanks.”

She went back to methodically scanning each one of the hundreds of used game cartridges lining the walls with a handheld scanner.

Arthur flopped down on a chair hidden behind the counter. “God, I hate my job,” he said.

She laughed at him and held out the scanner. “Great. Come and do mine. I’ve got at least a half an hour before this’ll be done.”

“No, seriously, it sucks. We’re supposed to push the new code to production in two weeks and it’s still failing half the test cases.”

“Hey, man, you’re the one who sold your soul for stock options,” she said cheerfully.

Arthur shrugged. “I guess. Fucking COBOL. Wish I’d never heard of the place. At least they don’t program in it anymore.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Programming thing.”

“Oh,” she said. “I mean, look at me. Here I am, prostituting myself to the gods of Game Stop, just so I can take home used games and get shitfaced and blow things up.”

“It’s only ‘getting shitfaced’ when there’s alcohol involved. You go on caffeine benders and stay up for two days straight.”

“Whatever. Look, are you gonna help me with this? There’s another scanner under the counter. I’ll let you buy me dinner and then I’ll go kick your ass at Metal Gear.”

“Lucky me.”

“Hey, you’re not the one who’s been putting up with assholes all day telling me I have no right to be working in a game shop. It’s a challenge to their delicate masculinity to buy games from a girl.”

“As my bank account will attest, I don’t suffer from that problem.”

“Yeah, or I wouldn’t let your ass anywhere near this place after hours. It’s like, I don’t even want to bother arguing with them — I know more about gaming than they ever will.”

Arthur shrugged. “I know. It sucks.” This wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion. “Hey, did you talk to Yusuf about Friday?”

“Yeah, he said he was in.”

“Cool. Tell him to bring a case of Monster.”

“A case?”

“I’m out, and a six-pack won’t get us very far.” 

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

“He’s been in four times this week,” Eames said, “but he stares at his phone the entire time.”

“Have you found out his name yet?”

“No, he’s still just ‘Hot Suit Guy.’ I haven’t figured how to phonetically say ‘A with a heart after it.’ I guess I could say ‘A-heart,’ but that sounds too much like ‘asshat.’ And that seems harsh, even if he’s ignoring me.”

“He’s not ignoring you completely. He always ends up in your line.”

Eames frowned. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“He doesn’t go through Charlotte’s line, which means there’s at least a chance he’s not straight.”

It was true. Charlotte might bag-shame, but she was also hot — in a vegan yoga-chick sort of way — and most of the straight guys found their way into her line. Only the oblivious (like Organic Dad) or those who wanted a shorter line found their way into Eames’. And sometimes the less straight.

“I’m sure he’d appreciate my fine bag-handling skills,” Eames said, leering, and Yusuf crumpled up the nearest piece of paper and threw it at him. Then he realized it was the week’s schedule, and he quickly retrieved it and tried to smooth it out.

“Ugh. He won’t appreciate anything if you try and use cheesy lines like that on him,” Yusuf said. “You need to get out more. Why don’t you sign up for Grindr or something?”

Eames made a face and a disgusted noise. “I don’t do random hookups.”

“There’s your problem. When was the last time you got laid?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. And that’s not the problem.”

“Fine. If you can tell me, honestly, that you don’t know what Hot Suit Guy had in his salad every day this week, I’ll agree that you don’t have a problem.”

Eames glared at him.

“See, you’re obsessing.”

“No, I’m customer-watching. It’s not just him, I do it with everyone. Organic Dad forgot his groceries today — wandered off without the whole cart when his kids distracted him. Got as far as the door before I could catch up.”

“Should have let him leave. You could have kept the groceries.”

“I don’t eat kale chips.”

Yusuf pulled a face. “Yeah, fair enough.”

“And Japanese Businessman was in yesterday afternoon. I don’t care how much older he is, I’d hit that in a heartbeat.”

“I thought you didn’t do hookups?”

“I’d theoretically hit that.”

“But what did he buy?”

“That’s not fair, he bought a lot of stuff. I can’t be expected to remember entire cartfuls, just lunches. Whiny Rich Guy bought raw oysters today.”

“Even I’d remember raw oysters. God, that’s disgusting. The man’s a savage.”

“Yeah. I pity the people who work with him. He’s a condescending bastard.”

“So have you engaged Hot Suit Guy in conversation?”

“For fuck’s sake, Yusuf, let it go!”

“What? You’re not going to get anywhere with him if you let him stand there and look at his phone every time he comes in.”

“It’s not like I can ask for his number.”

“You could ask if he’s having a good day.”

“He never looks like he’s having a good day.”

“Then you should give him your number. ‘For a good time, call Eames.’”

“Oh god, Yusuf, please. Just shut up about it already.”

“Fine. Look, I’m getting together with some friends tomorrow night. Do you want to come?”

“I’m working late shift.”

“What about next Friday then? It’s a weekly thing.”

“I … yeah, maybe. I’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

The Friday evening work rush was long finished, and it was crawling towards ten. His shift had started at two, which meant he’d missed Hot Suit Guy’s lunch run. In short, it had not been a great day. He hadn’t seen any of his regulars, just a long stream of Yoga Moms and Stressed-out Tech Workers who wanted to get home for the weekend.

The store was dead, and he asked Ethan if he could manage with one register while he took a bathroom break. He didn’t really need to go, he just wanted an excuse to break up the monotony.

He locked his register and started toward the back of the store when a couple hurried in. The woman was tiny, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, animatedly talking about something. The guy … holy shit.

The guy was Hot Suit Guy, but he wasn’t wearing a suit. He had on an ancient t-shirt that said “The Cake is a Lie” (and who the hell knew what that meant) and a pair of beat-up jeans. And it somehow looked just as good, if not better, than the suit.

He realized he was staring (and also standing in the middle of an aisle), and nonchalantly started following them, at a distance, because he was dying to find out anything he could about Hot Suit Guy, and also because his personal level of shame had reached an all-time low.

They headed directly for the snack foods aisle and Eames darted down the bottled water aisle, hoping to overhear them.

“— got to be kidding me with this shit,” said Hoodie Girl. “Don’t they have regular cheesy poofs?”

“These ones are organic sharp cheddar,” Hot Suit Guy said. “Does that work?” 

“I want the ones with the gross orange powder. ”

“Yeah, last time you got that stuff all over the place.”

“We could stop by the gas station on the way back. They’ll have some,” she said.

“We’re getting these,” he said. “Oh hey, they have vegetable chips. Check out the colors in these things.”

“Ugh. Next time we’re going to my grocery store. Here, these potato chips look okay and … these. They’re not Doritos but I guess I’ll live.”

“Oh, give me a break. It’s not like you’re paying for it.”

“Damn right I’m not. Okay, let’s get some ice cream,” she said.

“Salsa first.”

At that point, Eames freaked out, because both the ice cream and the salsa required them to pass the aisle where he was currently lurking. He was torn between bolting back to his register to see if he could be their cashier, or hiding in the back until they’d left the store. His curiosity prevailed, and he headed back to the registers.

— and almost immediately ran into them.

“Hey,” said Hoodie Girl, “do you have any real snacks in this place?”

He looked at the range of ‘healthy’ junk food in their basket. She was right — it wasn’t very inspiring. “We have lots of different chocolate bars, and if you want to go savory we have about five billion different types of cheese.”

“Really. Five billion?” she said sarcastically. “That seems unlikely.”

“Well, a few hundred, at least. And a whole aisle of crackers. And cookies. And the bakery department has some really good stuff.” The words kept tumbling out even though he realized he should just shut up. Hot Suit Guy gave him a strange look and Eames wanted to melt into the floor from embarrassment.

“No Doritos?” she said.

Eames laughed. “Sorry, no Doritos.” He lowered his voice. “Personally I think they made the wrong call there.”

That got him a grin from both of them.

“Okay, thanks,” Hot Suit Guy said, and they wandered off in the direction of the bakery.

When they came up to his register, their basket included ice cream, a dozen miniature cupcakes, and two different types of cheese.

“There definitely weren’t five billion,” Hoodie Girl said.

“Yes, but did you find some you liked? That’s the important bit,” said Eames.

“If he ever drags me back here, I’ll let you know. You guys should really add cheesy poofs and Doritos though. It’d totally expand your market.”

“Believe me, I know. The whole ‘late night snacks’ demographic is woefully underserved.”

She frowned at him.

“Sorry,” Eames added hastily, “I wasn’t trying to imply anything.”

“You guys need to carry Monster as well. These bullshit hippy energy drinks are too expensive, and no one wants some natural herb you can’t pronounce when you can just shove a ton of caffeine in something.”

Eames was a little bit scared of her. “We do have customer feedback forms, if you’d like to leave one.”

She motioned toward Hot Suit Guy. “He’s the one who shops here every day.”

Eames almost said, “I know” but caught himself just in time and smiled instead.

He finished bagging their food, in two bags he deliberately failed to charge them for. It was only twenty cents but he hoped Hot Suit Guy would notice. (Who was he kidding?)

“Have a great night, guys. There’s a gas station on the corner that should carry Monster.”

“Thanks,” she said, and Hot Suit Guy gave him another actual smile, which was almost as good as a conversation.

They walked out of the store, and Ethan walked over to his register. “What was that all about?”

“We should carry cheesy poofs,” Eames said.

“Can’t argue with that.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur put the ice cream in the freezer and had Ari get bowls for the chips and high-end cheese puffs. He sliced up the real cheese and scattered some crackers around it. He could almost convince himself it was healthy. Almost.

Yusuf showed up with the case of Monster — the hyper-caffeinated energy drink they used to fuel their late-night Friday gaming sessions. He started laughing when he saw the food.

“Let me guess, Arthur picked the grocery store.”

“I can’t believe you work there,” Ari said. “At least you’re not drinking the hippie Kool-Aid yet.”

“What can I say? Health care and paid time off. You don’t get that at Game Stop.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling ruefully. “But you don’t get free games.”

“True. That’s why we keep you around.”

“No, you keep me around because I own both your asses when it comes to gaming and you need me to show you how it’s done,” she said, taking the drinks and flashing him an evil grin. “Any new psycho customers this week?”

“Olive Guy. Buys nothing but olives. He’s working his way through the whole olive bar. It’s disgusting.”

“Ew,” Arthur and Ari said simultaneously.

“Oh, and there’s Hot Suit Guy, always stares at his phone and never says a word.”

“What an asshole,” Arthur said.

“Hot Suit Guy, huh?” Ari said. “Didn’t think guys were your thing.”

“They’re not. It’s Eames’ name, not mine. I haven’t seen him.”

“Who’s Eames?” Arthur said.

“New cashier. He started about a month ago, just moved here from England.”

Arthur frowned a bit.

“So this guy —” Yusuf went on, “— he only ever buys a salad and an apple, but he drinks Starbucks lattes. Eames says he’s kidding himself about what healthy means.”

Ari looked at Arthur and laughed. “Almost sounds like you with your lattes and the suits, but you always go to that sandwich place, right?”

“Mm,” he said, vaguely. “What’s this guy like?”

“Hot Suit Guy? Like I said, I haven’t —”

“— no, Eames.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s nice enough. Not really your type.”

“How do you know what my type is?”

Yusuf shrugged. “I never thought of ‘tattooed and ripped’ as something you’d be into …?”

Ari burst out laughing. “By the look on his face, I think you’re wrong.”

“Jesus, Ari, cut it out. I’m not interested in dating.”

“Who said anything about dating? You just need to get laid,” she replied. “Get your mind off your job.”

“That’s what this is for,” Arthur said, nodding in the direction of the gaming console. “Come on, I got through the last mission so fast last night. There’s no way you guys are gonna do better.”

“Dream on, loser,” Ari said, taking a large swig from her Monster. “I was up ’til three last night. I’m already four missions ahead of you.”

 

* * *

 

“So you missed a good time at Arthur’s on Friday,” Yusuf said.

“Oh?” Eames replied, around a mouthful of organically grown salad.

“Yeah. Ari kicked his ass at Metal Gear.”

“How many of you guys do this?”

“Just the three of us.”

“Sounds like a real testosterone-fest.”

Yusuf laughed like Eames had missed the joke.

“What?”

“Ari’s not a guy.”

“Oh,” Eames said, feeling stupid.

“— and if you ever meet her, for the love of god, don’t question her authority on gaming. Arthur’s good but Ari can kick his ass on almost anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

“I didn’t get home ’til 4. It was sick.”

“It’s … something,” he said, managing to express his contempt in two words.

“Oh, come on. When was the last time you did anything on a Friday?”

“I go to the gym.”

“That’s not a social activity,” Yusuf said.

“It is.”

“Name two people you know from the gym.”

“Sod off,” said Eames, and shoved some more salad in his mouth.

“How’s that salad?”

“Fine.”

“No walnuts?”

“Watching my figure. Hot Suit Guy must have a wicked metabolism to get away with what he eats.” 

“Maybe you’ll run into him at the gym,” Yusuf teased.

“Hardcore gym types don’t drink hazelnut lattes. Too many calories. Besides, he’s got the wrong body type.”

“For someone who claims not to be interested, you’ve given this _way_ too much thought.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, has he been through Charlotte’s line even once?” Yusuf said.

“No, but he showed up Friday night with some girl — I guess his girlfriend? Bitching at each other like they were an old married couple.”

“Still wearing his suit?”

“No, now he’s Hot But Tragically Straight T-Shirt Guy.”

“Huh,” said Yusuf. “Perhaps he has a twin.”

“Maybe. But he didn’t come in for lunch today,” said Eames.

“Well, I gotta get back. Don’t pine too hard. Remember: there’s an app for that.”

“Shut up,” said Eames.

 

* * *

 

There were long lines at all the registers — it was the height of the lunch rush — and Eames didn’t even see him coming. He’d grown accustomed to the salad container and the apple coming down the belt, but this time it was a container of soup and a roll.

He looked up to give his standard customer greeting, and Hot Suit Guy was there. _Smiling_ at him. Phone nowhere in sight.

Eames momentarily lost his ability to speak. After an embarrassing few seconds that seemed much longer, his cashier reflexes kicked in. “Um, hi. Would you like a bag?”

“That’d be great,” he said. “Hate to spill it.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want to ruin that suit.” He regretted the words as soon as he’d said them, but he was just ‘being friendly,’ he told himself. Not flirting. Definitely not flirting.

He looked surprised. “You like it?”

“Yeah, it looks good on you,” Eames said, and realized with a sickening feeling that he was digging himself deeper into the ‘not flirting’ hole. He shut up and smiled stupidly.

“Thanks,” Hot Suit Guy said, “it’s a Zegna.”

Eames didn’t have a clue what that was, so he said, “Very nice.”

He paid for his food, and — before Eames could even give his standard line — said, “Thanks, man. Have a good afternoon.”

“Yeah, you too,” Eames said, a little stunned. _Bloody hell_ , he thought, _what the fuck just happened?_

 

* * *

 

As soon as the lunch rush was over, he took a bathroom break and hurried to find Yusuf in the back.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he said.

Yusuf looked over from unpacking a case of organically grown quinoa. “Hm?”

“Hot Suit Guy has a new name.”

“A different one?”

“Yeah, so he came back today with the Soup of the Day. So you know what that makes him, right?” Eames said, barely able to contain his glee.

Yusuf raised his eyebrows and gave a long-suffering sigh. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“Hot _Soup_ Guy. Get it? It’s brilliant!”

Yusuf groaned. “You and your English puns.”

“And,” Eames continued enthusiastically, “he didn’t even have his phone out. And we talked about his suit.”

“I’ll send out the wedding invitations.”

Eames scowled. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of?”

“… my irresistible sexual charm?”

“Which has been working so well to get you laid.”

“Only because I’m picky.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, my friend.”

“This coming from someone who spends his weekends gaming,” said Eames.

“And unless you get past the ‘Vague Suit Compliment Stage’ of flirting and have something better to do, you’re always welcome to join us.”

 

* * *

 

Ari had implemented a new rule at Game Stop: if he wanted to show up and bitch about his job, Arthur had to either help her with inventory or bring cheesy poofs. He always brought cheesy poofs.

She sat on the floor cross-legged, scanning the cartridges on the bottom shelves with one hand and eating the snacks with the other, trying not to get orange dust on everything.

Meanwhile, Arthur tipped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as he ranted about work.

“I’m telling you, Nash is such an asshole. Whenever he checks code in, it breaks a bunch of stuff, and I’m the one who has to fix it when they push it to production.”

“Don’t you guys do regression testing?” she said.

“Well, we did, but — wait, what?”

“Regression testing? Running the same tests on new code to make sure it doesn’t break anything?”

“Yeah, I know what it is,” Arthur said, “but how do you know?”

“Well I’m not going to work at Game Stop forever, am I? I’m taking some online programming courses so I can get out of this shithole.”

“Wow. Okay … wow.”

“You can hire me to replace Nash,” she said.

“Yeah, totally. Huh.”

She smirked. “You’re constantly underestimating me. I’d be upset, but you bring me snacks, so I guess I’ll let you slide.”

“Thanks,” he said, meaning it.

He watched her beep through another twenty cartridges before he worked up the nerve to broach the subject. (People asked their best friends for dating advice, right? God knows he wasn’t going to talk to Yusuf about it.)

“So …”

“Hm?”

“So there’s this guy …” and as soon as he’d launched into it, he realized what a bad move it had been, because her face lit up.

“Yeah? I didn’t think you were into dating. Who is it? Is it that guy Yusuf was talking about?”

And he panicked, because it would make everything so much worse if they started ganging up on him, so he said, “No, it’s one of the baristas at Starbucks.”

“Oh?” she said, intrigued.

“Yeah, whenever I give him my name, he writes an A with a big heart after it.”

“Oh my god,” she said, laughing. “Well, if you’re interested, I’d say it’s a sure thing.”

Unfortunately, the barista at Starbucks was female, and unable to take a hint. (Arthur corrected her ‘spelling’ every morning.) And now, his lie had made his questions about how to subtly find out if the cashier was interested into a moot point.

“So just do it,” Ari said, all excited. “Ask him out.”

“No,” he said, backpedaling like mad, “I dunno. We probably don’t have anything in common.”

“Sounds like you both want to get laid,” she said.

“Oh god, Ari. I don’t know why I asked you. Just forget I mentioned it, okay?”

“Your loss. Is he hot?”

He didn’t say anything, for fear of saying something idiotic like, “I think he could bench-press me.”

She laughed at him. “You’re blushing — definitely your loss. Just go for it. It’s not like you work with the guy.”

He shrugged.

“What’s the worst that could happen? You’d have to go to a different Starbucks, and they’re all over the place.”

_Oh god,_ he thought, _I’d have to go to a different Whole Foods, and there isn’t one._ He had visions of having to find out the guy’s schedule from Yusuf so he could avoid him if it all went south. There was no way he could pursue this.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, hoping she’d drop it. Nothing was worth giving up his locally-sourced, organic produce.

 

* * *

 

 

 

* * *

 

Eames sat in the corner of the break room, moping.

“I don’t know what I did,” he complained to Yusuf, who rolled his eyes and made an ‘out with it’ gesture.

“On Tuesday, he was practically flirting with me, and then the last three days, nothing. Back to his phone and single-word interactions.”

“Huh. Perhaps he’s just busy?”

“But he really seemed interested,” Eames said.

“Perhaps the barista made him a better offer.”

Eames glared at him.

“Hey, you never know. Does he still have the hearts on his coffee cups?”

He tried to glare harder but the effect seemed lost on Yusuf. “Yes,” he finally said, but it came out sounding despondent and a bit pathetic.

“Well, there you go. You need to battle to the death with this Eros of coffee.”

Eames stared at him like he was nuts. “I don’t know why I talk to you about these things.”

“Neither do I. You should stop.”

Eames bit into the chocolate cupcake from the bakery — the one he justified by Hot Suit Guy’s earlier snub — and pretended to ignore the remark.

“So, since your love life is going nowhere, will you come to game night tonight?” Yusuf said.

Eames gave him a withering look.

“Ari’s bringing the snacks, so they’ll be terrible for you. She’s great at junk food.”

He sighed and figured he had nothing left to lose. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great. She doesn’t finish work until nine, so we usually meet up at Arthur’s sometime after that.”

“And I assume you’re not going to make me drive myself to a party where I don’t know anyone, right?”

“It’s not a party, it’s a gathering.”

“My point stands.”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up.”

“Great,” Eames said. “So, what should I bring?”

“Hm. We’re usually short on sweet stuff. How about cake?”

 

* * *

 

Eames agonized over what sort of cake a bunch of gamers would want and decided something with a high icing to cake ratio was a good bet. He went with a chocolate cake that looked like it would cause insulin shock in any normal person.

“So, what is it you guys actually do at these things?” he said to Yusuf as they drove over there.

“Hang out and game, mostly.”

“You know I don’t game.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy to pick up. You’ll have fun.”

“What sort of games?”

“We’re doing Metal Gear at the moment. It’s a First Person Shooter.”

“Oh, like Halo or something?”

“‘— or something,’ yeah. Close enough.”

“So do you play against each other?”

“Nah, we take turns playing.”

“What do the rest of you do?”

“Make fun of whoever’s playing.”

“Oh, god,” said Eames, and wondered if it was too late to get out of it.

“You’ll be fine,” Yusuf said, with a smile that looked a little predatory and not at all like it could be revenge for putting up with all of Eames’ pining for Hot Suit Guy.

“So how did you meet these guys?”

“Well, I met Ari at Game Stop. I kept asking her questions when I was getting into gaming. I guess at some point she decided I wasn’t an asshole and asked if I wanted to start gaming with her and Arthur on Fridays.

“And Arthur?”

“He’s a programmer at COBOL, way too stressed at work. I think the gaming helps him let off steam. Either that or he just likes to shoot things.”

“Right,” Eames said, not at all comforted, even though he knew Yusuf was joking about the shooting bit. ‘Tightly wound programmer’ did not sound like the type of person he was likely to get along with.

They pulled up into a nicely landscaped condo complex. It was a real step up from the ancient one-bedroom apartment Eames had on the other side of town.

“Nice,” said Eames.

“Yeah. Wait until you see the inside. Programmer’s salary.”

They walked up to the second level and rang the doorbell, and when the guy answered, Eames nearly dropped the cake.

“It’s you —” Eames said, before his brain deserted him entirely.

“Um, hi,” the guy replied. He didn’t look entirely surprised to see Eames. If anything, he seemed to be blushing. “I’m Arthur.”

Eames turned to Yusuf. “This is —” he tried to convey the obvious with his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to say the actual words “— the guy from the store.”

And, because the universe hated Eames, Yusuf stood there and looked blank. Eames wanted to kick him.

Eames tried again. “This is Hot —” (and here he tried to save himself from further embarrassment) “— _Soup_ Guy.”

“Oh!” said Yusuf. “Oh my god.” And started laughing hysterically.

“Is that Yusuf?” he heard someone he presumed was Ari call from inside the apartment.

“Hey Ari,” Yusuf said, “you’re not gonna believe this — Arthur is one of Eames’ regulars.”

She showed up at the door, and Eames wasn’t surprised to see Hoodie Girl. “Oh hey,” she said, “it’s you. Good call on the bakery. So you’re Eames, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Eames, still a bit dazed. “Hi.”

“So which one is he? At least we know he’s not Organic Dad. Is he Whiny Rich Guy?”

“No …” said Arthur, as he blushed some more, “apparently I’m Hot Suit Guy.”

“Soup. It was Soup,” Eames said desperately.

“No,” said Ari, chuckling, “it was definitely Suit. Yusuf told us.”

“How could you —” Eames started.

“— well I didn’t know it was _Arthur_ , did I?” Yusuf said. “He doesn’t even shop there.”

“He does now,” Eames muttered.

“Yeah,” Arthur said. “I started a few weeks ago. The produce selection at my other place really went downhill.”

“You never even stopped in to say hi,” Yusuf said accusingly.

“Oh for god’s sake, everyone shut up and get inside,” said Ari.

They shuffled through the door as Arthur said, “You’re always in the back, it’s not like I could find you.”

“Ooh, you brought cake,” Ari said, ignoring the bickering. “The cake is not a lie.”

Eames remembered Arthur’s weird t-shirt from the night they’d come in for snacks. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, it’s from Portal. They keep promising you cake to do their experiments, and then at the end, they tell you ‘The cake is a lie.’ Great game.”

“Ah,” Eames said, because that explanation kind of made sense, even without context. He decided he liked Ari. Besides, there were cheesy poofs here. Real ones. (Which were apparently named Cheez Doodles, but who the hell called them that?) And he couldn’t imagine it was Arthur who’d bought them.

He was torn between ‘mortified’ and ‘thrilled’ to find out Hot Suit Guy was Arthur. At least he hadn’t named him Annoying Phone Guy or Kidding Himself About Salad Guy. The evening was going to be awkward, to say the least. But it was a brilliant stroke of luck, too.

He was just wondering about Arthur’s odd midweek shift in attitude when Arthur showed up by his side and stopped him from worrying about it any further.

“So, you game at all?”

“Sadly, no. My parents abhorred all things digital.”

“Didn’t you go to college?” Arthur said, rudely. 

“Yeah,” said Eames, a bit put out, “where I got a degree.”

“And you didn’t have time to play video games?”

“You clearly didn’t major in visual arts,” Eames said, disappointed his first real interaction with Hot Suit Guy wasn’t going anything like the way he’d hoped.

“Well, this should be entertaining.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” Ari said. Turning to Eames, she said, “Ignore him. He’s not good with people.”

Eames resisted the urge to agree with her and smiled instead.

“Okay, game time,” Arthur said. “Snacks later. I’ll show Eames how it’s done.”

_Probably not in the sense I’m hoping,_ Eames thought, watching appreciatively as he bent over to turn on the console.

The game came up, showing the saved games for each of their characters. Arthur selected his and it came up on the level he’d been working on last, a mission to extract other soldiers from an enemy compound.

He picked his way through it using a cunning mixture of stealth and distraction, avoiding unnecessary encounters with enemy players. It took more finesse than the traditional ‘shoot everything that moves’ videogames. Still, the final encounter required him to skillfully shoot his way out of the base.

“Ha!” Arthur said, at the end of the level. “I fucking owned that.”

And there was little doubt that he had, but it was completely unhelpful in terms of teaching someone ‘how it’s done.’

Ari rolled her eyes. “Hand it over. C’mere Eames. Let me show you how to work this.”

She went through the buttons on the controller, showing him how to move and shoot, how to pick up ammo and do diving rolls across the floor. It didn’t look that complicated.

Then he tried to do it.

The controller stick was more sensitive than he expected, and instead of smoothly turning down a hallway, he ended up overshooting it and ran into a stack of crates. The noise — he was supposed to be stealthy, after all — brought the guards running and he died in a hail of gunfire. Arthur and Yusuf burst into laughter. Ari glared at them.

Unfortunately, that was just the beginning of his incompetence.

He got lost. Multiple times. He tried to throw a grenade and threw his gun instead. (Arthur laughed so hard at that, he could barely breathe.) He shot at friendly targets. He ran into more walls than a Roomba. He kept forgetting which controller button did what. He’d finally get someone lined up for a sniper shot, only to find out he was out of ammo. And then — splat — they’d killed him before he could try again.

Ari winced each time he made another mistake. Yusuf and Arthur just kept laughing. Eames wasn’t sure who he wanted to kill more — the two of them or the video game targets.

He gave it a solid half hour before declaring, “Yeah, I’m done,” and handing the controller to Ari.

“It gets easier,” she said, looking apologetic.

To be honest, he wasn’t thrilled with the way the evening was turning out. Being humiliated in front of a friend, a stranger, and a work crush was not his idea of a good time. But he was damned if he’d let them see that.

“I think I died enough to earn some cake,” he said cheerfully. “Who wants some?”

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Right after Yusuf and Eames left, Ari rounded on Arthur. “What the hell was going on with you?”

“What?” Arthur said, defensively.

“You were a complete dick to Eames.”

“He sucked at the game.”

“Not just that — the whole college thing as well. You do realize that this is someone who gave you the nickname of Hot Suit Guy, right?”

Arthur shrugged.

“So, are you deliberately trying to sabotage this, or are you just being stupid?”

“He really did suck at the game.”

“Well yeah,” she admitted, “he did, but that’s not the point. I’m just saying you should be nicer to people, especially people who seem to have a thing for you.”

Arthur shrugged.

“Is this some sort of gay panic?” she said. “Some sort of internalized homophobia bullshit?”

“What? Ari!”

“I’m serious. I mean, you never pursued the barista and that was a sure thing. Maybe when it’s someone you know socially, their interest is more threatening …? Is it easier in the abstract?”

“Christ, Ari. You’re not my shrink.”

“You have a shrink?” she said, interested.

“Shut up. Look, I don’t know, okay? It was awkward. I mean, what would you do if you found out someone called you ‘Hot Suit Guy?’”

“Drag them off to the bedroom. And buy more suits.”

“That’s not helpful,” Arthur said.

“Hey, you asked. I wouldn’t spend the evening insulting them, not if I ever wanted to get laid. Just saying.”

“Look, I don’t want a relationship with someone. It’s just all that emotional crap and … ugh. No.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough, but if he keeps coming on Fridays, you need to lighten up, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Arthur said.

“He brings good snacks, and you know how I feel about that,” she said. “Oh, and I’m taking home the cake.”

“You can only take half of it, because of the ‘gay panic’ comment. You know me better than that.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “Sorry.”

 

* * *

 

It was early Monday evening at the Game Stop. What might have been prime hours for some businesses was a dead zone for the teen gaming industry, most of whom had to be home for dinner with their parents.

Ari eagerly looked forward to it: a few hours peace between the chaos of ‘post-school hangout time’ and the monotony of inventory. It was good for getting her homework done. Today she was working on her Advanced Perl class, and she was so absorbed in it she didn’t notice anyone had come in until they were at the counter.

“Sorry,” she said automatically. Then she looked up, and said, “Oh, it’s you. Hi, Eames.” He was the last person she’d expected to see. Well, maybe not the last. The last would have been her grandmother, who lived in France and didn’t game.

“Hi, Ari. Yusuf mentioned you worked here.”

“Yep. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I need an opinion, and possibly some sales advice.”

“I’m all ears.”

“So, Friday … was a disaster.”

“It depends,” she said. “‘Minor flood,’ maybe, but not ‘thermonuclear war.’”

“Well, the ride back to my flat was pretty awkward. I don’t think I’m getting invited back.”

“What?”

“I believe Yusuf’s words were: ‘Sorry, my friend, you’re just not cut out for this.’”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s the last time I let him use my employee discount. Jesus. Between him and Arthur, you’d think they’d been born playing games. As far as I’m concerned, you can come back whenever you want.”

“No, I get where he’s coming from. Game night isn’t the time for some newbie to learn how to play.”

“Yeah, but they were both kinda dicks on Friday. Not that it’s my place to apologize for either of them, but they were.”

Eames shrugged and didn’t offer anything further.

“So, you said you wanted an opinion,” Ari prompted.

“Yeah … well, it’s more of an awkward question.”

“Go on …”

“If I were to come back, assuming I could make myself into a semi-decent gamer, do you think …”

“What?”

“Well, do you think Arthur would have any issues with it?”

“Why would he?”

Eames paused before answering, and when he did, it was forced and awkward. “Because he knows I named him ‘Hot Suit Guy,’ and with the exception of one day, he’s either been standoffish or downright hostile.”

“Oh,” Ari said, understanding, “you think he’s homophobic.”

“No, I … I’m not sure. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable, but I don’t know why.”

“It’s not that,” she said, with a bit of a smile. “He’s ‘out and proud,’ as much as an introvert programmer can be.”

“Oh, thank god,” Eames replied, looking relieved.

“As for the ‘comfort level’ thing, he’ll get over it. He’s weird around new people.”

Eames gave a short laugh.

“Okay,” she added, “he’s also kind of a competitive dick, but he’s a nice guy, once you get to know him.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’d hang out with him if he wasn’t?” she said.

He looked her over for a second. “I think you’d probably punch him.”

“You’re damned right,” she said, grinning. “And neither of them will question it if I say you’re coming back, so you’ve got yourself a Friday night game night, if you want it.”

“Glad you’re on my side.”

She squinted at him. “Tentatively,” she said. “Just don’t forget the competitive dick is my friend.”

Eames looked suitably chastened. “No, I wasn’t suggesting —”

She cut him off with a smile. “I know. So why do you want in on this? Is it just for Arthur?”

“I —”

“— because if it is, and it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to have to deal with all the drama.”

“Well, I won’t deny he’s hot, but the last thing I want right now is any sort of ‘relationship.’”

Ari laughed.

“What?” said Eames.

“Nothing.”

“Anyway, I can prove it’s not all about him. I showed up Friday night without knowing he’d be there.” He looked a little sheepish and added, “Yusuf thinks I should get out more.”

“Yeah, what d’you do the rest of the time?”

He shrugged. “Go to the gym. Watch Netflix. I only moved here recently — I don’t know a lot of people yet.”

She eyed his biceps and grinned. “Yeah, figured you had to hit the gym for those. So, you only into guys, or are you equal opportunity?”

“Are you … propositioning me?” he said.

“Hey, never hurts to ask. You said you weren’t into the relationship thing, and casual’s how I roll. Just wondered if you were one of us ninja bisexuals.”

“Ninja?”

“Bisexual invisibility. It’s a thing. ”

“Ah,” he said, and broke into a huge grin. “That’s a new one for me. No, sorry, just guys.”

“Damn,” she said. “‘Cause you speak in complete sentences and you’re hot. It’s rare to find those things together.”

“That’s a pretty low bar, isn’t it?”

“You’d be amazed.”

“What about Yusuf? He’s not bad.”

“Oh, I forgot the third part: ‘doesn’t want to start a life together and have children.’”

“Ah. Yeah, I guess that moves the bar a bit.”

“And puts Yusuf firmly in the gaming-only zone. Besides, I’m not his type. I think I scare him.”

“… yeah, I can see that.”

“You think I’m scary?”

“I think you’re fun.”

“Good answer,” she said. “Now, if we’re gonna get you up to speed, you’ll need a console. If you don’t have the money —” she looked thoughtfully at the pile of unprocessed trade-in machines in the corner “— we might be able to work something out temporarily.”

“Lovely of you to offer, but it’s not an issue. Used would be good though.”

“Okay. Console and game, no problem.”

“Great.”

“Nothing personal, but I think you’re going to need some tutoring as well,” she said.

“Oh?”

“I can be bribed with dinner and snacks. Just sayin’.”

“Are you sure you’re not still hitting on me?”

“Nope, just trying to get free food and preserve your dignity next Friday.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “How’s tomorrow night?”

 

* * *

 

“Hello again,” said Eames cheerfully.

Arthur was at his checkout with a salad and an apple, soup apparently having fallen out of favor this week.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry about Friday. Ari told me I was a dick.”

Eames laughed it off and changed the subject. “So, do you like apples?”

“What?” Arthur looked confused by the question. The person in line behind him gave Eames a horrified look — this was not acceptable Whole Foods cashier/customer protocol.

“You almost always get an apple. Do you eat it? Because no one I know eats apples unless they’re in a pie or slathered in peanut butter. And —” he pointed down at the salad, “— no peanut butter.” 

“Uh,” Arthur stammered, “actually, no. I leave it in the kitchen at work.”

“Thought so. Trying to impress someone?”

Arthur’s expression turned dark. “None of your business.”

Eames realized he’d misjudged the situation horribly. His attempt at playful banter had landed him in the ‘dick’ category. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was just curious.” He made sure not to charge him for the apple.

“You forgot —” Arthur started, and Eames cut him off.

“— enjoy your lunch.” Then he added, hopefully, “See you tomorrow?”

Arthur gave him a reluctant smile. “Yeah, probably.”

 

* * *

 

On Tuesday morning, Organic Dad came in without the kids (they were with the babysitter — Eames asked) and bought three different kinds of chocolate snacks. No groceries, just chocolate. Then he sat in the dining area and ate his way through half a container of chocolate covered espresso beans. Eames wasn’t sure what was going on, but he pitied the kids. For that matter, he pitied anybody else who had to deal with him that day.

Japanese Businessman came through the line at 11:45 with an expensive container of sushi. Not for the first time, Eames looked at his wedding band with a sense of mild disappointment. Then he remembered Ari’s comment about ‘ninja bisexuals’ and smiled. Maybe he shouldn’t be so quick with his assumptions.

Whiny Rich Guy decided to go with a slice of their brick-oven pizza, practically slumming it for him. As usual, he was a snotty bastard — passive-aggressively huffing his way through the wait in line.

Eames was due for a break but held out, hoping Arthur would show up. His patience was rewarded at 1:30, when a very stressed-out looking Arthur showed up with an apple, a salad, a piece of chocolate torte from the bakery, and an energy drink. (No Starbucks.)

“Hello,” said Eames.

“Hey,” said Arthur, who gave him a strained smile.

“Everything okay?”

“Work,” he said, as if that was answer enough, and Eames supposed it was.

“Sorry.”

Arthur shrugged. “What can you do, right?”

“Yeah.” He rang up his items, skipping the apple again.

Arthur looked at him and shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“I know. I’m trying to be quirky and charming. Is it working?”

Arthur cracked a smile. “Yeah. It kind of is.”

“Good. Enjoy your lunch.”

Arthur sighed. “Ugh. Yeah, thanks.”

Instead of heading out of the store like he usually did, he went over to the inside dining area and — ignoring the salad and the apple — started eating the chocolate torte.

The midday rush had passed and there was no one in line. “I’m going to take my break,” he said to Charlotte, and went over to the tables.

“Hey, can I join you?”

Arthur looked up from his food, startled and a little embarrassed. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Sorry about the apple comment yesterday.”

“It’s fine, you were right. My boss is a health nut. Wouldn’t approve,” he said, pointing at the chocolate torte.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” said Eames. “Work sucks?”

“Yeah. Big deadline and my coworker dumped all this stuff on me at the last minute.”

“What a twat.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur said, horrified.

“A dick. What a dick. Sorry. I forget there are some things I shouldn’t say over here.”

Arthur started laughing. “It’s fine. Nash the Twat.”

“That sounds rude.”

“It really does. It’s like ‘growling at the badger.’”

Eames joined in, laughing with him.

“Could be a new category on Jeopardy,” Arthur said. “Euphemisms for cunnilingus for $500.”

“Not really my area, I’m afraid.”

“So I gathered,” Arthur said, and the slight raise of his eyebrows made Eames’ heart race.

In a ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ moment of epic proportions, Eames decided to return the gesture. He took the pen from his apron and wrote his phone number on Arthur’s napkin. “If you ever want to vent about work …” he said, leaving the idea dangling, hopefully ripe for the picking.

Arthur looked at him suspiciously.

“— I can help you come up with rude names for your coworkers,” Eames added quickly, feeling out of his depth now that he’d put himself out there.

“Okay, thanks,” Arthur said, his expression warming again. He opened the energy drink and chugged half the bottle. Just watching it made Eames feel sick.

“Gotta work late,” Arthur explained, seeing his expression.

“Oh hey, I’ve been wondering —”

“Hm?”

“— why’d you start coming here for lunch?”

“Trying to get a promotion. You asked if there was someone I was trying to impress, remember?”

“Anyone I’d know?”

Arthur frowned. “Maybe. He shops here and he’s pretty distinctive.”

“I do try to be perceptive,” Eames said, hoping it didn’t sound creepy.

“He’s about my height and skinny, with dark hair. He’s stuck up and irritable most of the time. And he’s got cheekbones that could cut glass.”

“Ha, yes! Let me guess — sometimes he has oysters for lunch?”

“Oh god. Yeah, that’s gotta be him. What’d you call him?”

Eames chuckled and lowered his voice so it didn’t broadcast across the whole dining area. “Whiny Rich Guy.”

“God, he’s such a dick,” Arthur said. “His father runs the company, and I have to suck up to him if I want to get anywhere. He kept giving my meatball subs side-eye.”

“So now you eat salad?”

Arthur wrinkled his nose. “My mom keeps telling me to eat more greens. If it gets me a pay raise, I guess it’s worth it.”

“And here I thought we were the only ones who had to pay lip-service to vegetables in order to get ahead,” Eames said.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “With a mouth like that, I’ll bet you’re good at it.”

“I am. I’ve won Employee of the Month twice now,” Eames teased back, without missing a beat.

And for the first time in the conversation, Arthur finally cracked a smile. “I can’t believe you just used the phrase ‘paying lip-service to vegetables.’ You know how obscene that sounds, right?”

Eames gave him a grin that was equal parts playful and sleazy.

“Yeah,” Arthur said, answering his own question, “of course you did.”

He finished the last bite of his food and said, “I’ve got to get back or I’ll catch hell for it. Thanks for the apple.”

“Anytime,” Eames said.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Arthur got back to work, he texted Ari.

**_[arthur]_ ** _wtf?_

**[ari]** wtf what?

**_[arthur]_ ** _eames just gave me his phone number_

**[ari]** lucky you

**_[arthur]_ ** _is this your fault?_

**[ari]**???

**_[arthur]_ ** _did you tell him to?_

**[ari]** are you drunk?

**_[arthur]_ ** _you’re always trying to set me up_

**[ari]** no seriously, are you drunk? it’s lunchtime ffs

**_[arthur]_ ** _well?_

**[ari]** no I didn’t. get back to work before dickhead catches you texting.

He put his phone back in his pocket, only for it to vibrate again a few moments later.

**[ari]** you should call him. he’s cute.

He didn’t dignify it with a response.

 

* * *

 

“You know,” Eames said to Ari, “for someone your size, I’m impressed with how much food you can put away.”

They were sitting in a booth in Red Robin, where Ari had polished off a massive burger and was almost done with her basket of fries. And a milkshake.

“I don’t eat out much,” she said. “Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. You might regret the bribery in a few hours.”

“Nah, I can teach anyone how to game.”

An hour later, as Eames overcompensated on the controller and ran his character headlong into a wall for the third time in as many minutes, she said, “I might have been wrong about my teaching skills.”

“No, no,” he said, “I’ll get it. It’s just going to take time.”

“It’s going to take something …” she replied.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve shown me the basics, I just need to practice.”

She looked at him with obvious doubt. “Maybe you’d be better with something with fewer controls,” she said, “like Mario Kart.”

He shot her a filthy look. “I told you, I’ll get it.”

“Just trying to save your ego from getting thrashed on Friday.”

“Mm,” he said, concentrating on trying to open the door without running into it.

“Speaking of which, I hear you gave Arthur your phone number.”

“What?” Her comment caught him off-guard, and he accidentally ran his character off a second floor balcony into a courtyard full of enemy players who killed him in seconds. He put down his controller and sighed. Perhaps she was right. “Yeah, I did. How’d you know?”

“He texted me. Thought I’d put you up to it.”

“Is that the sort of thing you’d do?”

“I tried to get him to go out with this barista …”

“The one who draws the hearts on his mugs?” Eames said.

Ari stared at him.

Eames shrugged. “He always comes through the checkout with them. It’s obvious they have a thing for him.”

“I thought you didn’t want a relationship. Why’d you give him your number?”

“I don’t. We were just chatting and coming up with inappropriate names for his colleagues.”

She continued to stare at him.

“What? Can’t a guy flirt? I’m pretty sure it was mutual.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well, just don’t expect him to cut you any slack on your gaming because of it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Okay, let’s go over this one more time before I declare you a lost cause …” 

 

* * *

 

Eames stopped by Starbucks on his way to work. Not for tea — he preferred the English teabags he was still hoarding from when he’d lived in London — but for a travel mug for Arthur.

He’d had the idea when Ari mentioned the barista. He selfishly (and rather gleefully) thought that they wouldn’t be able to draw hearts on a reusable mug, but then realized that it would serve a much more useful purpose: Arthur would be able to hide his energy drinks at work.

He selected the largest one he could find, something that could inconspicuously hold an entire bottle of whatever Arthur wanted to drink. No one should have to chug down that stuff in one sitting. The thought of it made his stomach churn.

When Arthur showed up, this time with his usual hazelnut latte, Eames made his move.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” Arthur said, looking much happier than he had the day before. “How’s it going?”

“Always good when my favorite customers are here.”

“You have more than one?”

“Well, you’re my _favorite_ favorite customer.”

“I’m honored.”

“You finished with that?” Eames said, motioning toward his coffee cup.

“What? Oh, yeah.” He handed it over so Eames could throw it away. “Thanks.”

Eames produced the reusable tumbler from shelf underneath the register. “I got you this.”

He frowned, taken aback.

“You’ll be able to hide your energy drinks in it at work,” Eames explained.

Arthur’s face lit up. “Sweet!” He checked it out. “Aw, yeah. This’ll be perfect. Thanks! How much do I owe you?”

Eames gave him a long-suffering look. “It’s a ‘thoughtful gift.’”

“Right, well. It’s … very thoughtful. Thanks.” He grinned so widely his dimples showed, something Eames hadn’t seen since Arthur had laughed at his game performance the previous week. It was a good look on him.

The Yoga Mom in line behind Arthur sighed heavily in a ‘can we please get the hell on with this transaction so I can get out of here with my lunch?’ sort of way.

“Right,” said Arthur, and ran his card through the machine. “I should get back.”

“Good to see you,” said Eames, and handed him his lunch.

“Yeah, you too. You coming Friday?”

“You gonna mock my inability to play?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll be there.”

 

* * *

 

**_[arthur]_ ** _he bought me a coffee mug_

**[ari]** the barista?

**_[arthur]_ ** _no eames_

**[ari]** that’s random

**_[arthur]_ ** _so I can drink my monster at work without dickhead noticing_

**[ari]** huh. that’s pretty cool

**_[arthur]_ ** _yeah_

**[ari]** you should rethink your no dating policy

**_[arthur]_ ** _I don’t want a relationship_

**[ari]** so you keep saying. gotta go, shoplifting.

He looked at his phone for a second, frowning. Then he texted:

**_[arthur]_ ** _huh?_

It was five minutes before he got a reply.

**[ari]** some kid, you idiot. not me.

**[ari]** read him the riot act and kicked him out

**_[arthur]_ ** _you’re scarier than the cops_

**[ari]** damn right

 

* * *

 

“What’s going on with you?” Yusuf asked, when Eames walked into the break room.

“Hm?”

“You’ve looked happy all week. It’s unnerving.”

“Nothing,” Eames said, because damned if he was going to make an idiot of himself over something that might be nothing. “What’re you reading?” Yusuf had been staring intensely at his phone when he’d come in.

“Stuff about the new game. It comes out next Tuesday.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, most poor bastards have to wait in line at midnight, but Ari saves us copies.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“Well, she works at the store. It’s the least she can do.”

“No, I’m pretty sure the least she could do would be to make you wait in line.”

“Huh. True.”

“So will it be really different from the current one?”

“What do you mean?”

“The controls and stuff. Don’t want to learn it all again.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ve been practicing,” Eames said, grinning. “I barely run into walls anymore.”

“Are you joking? I’ve never seen anyone with worse gaming instincts than you.”

“You’d be amazed what a few days of gaming ’til 3am will do for you.”

“Is that why you’ve looked like hell for your 6am shifts?”

“Could be,” he said nonchalantly.

“Oh my god, this is about Arthur, isn’t it?”

“No! Ari said exactly the same thing. It’s not.”

“Wait, when did you talk to Ari?”

“When I bought the console.”

“You bought a console?”

“Well, I had to practice on something. And you’re the one who’s been trying to get me to have hobbies. And, I should point out, also get me laid.”

“Yeah, but not with my friends!”

“Would that be the hobbies part, or the getting laid part?”

Yusuf gave him a murderous glare.

“Look, it’s not all about Arthur. I like the game. I like hanging out with you guys.But believe me, the last thing I want is a relationship.” He felt it would be best not to mention the mild flirting.

“You’re not his type,” Yusuf said.

“Oh really?” said Eames. He tilted his head, amused. “And what, pray tell, is his ‘type?’”

Yusuf almost said something and stopped, thought the better of it. Then said, “someone who shares his interests and can … relate to his work.”

“Oh, so someone who’s smarter than I am?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re implying that because I work here, I’m not smart. But you work here, and you’re friends with him.”

“‘Friends’ being the key word.” Yusuf said, “I’m definitely not his type.”

“You’re also straight.” Eames considered telling Yusuf he was the Dr. Phil of gay dating advice, which was to say, useless. He restrained himself. “Did you know that one of the early artist pigments came from ground-up cochineal beetles?”

“What?”

“Or that art historians can date paintings by analyzing the composition of the paint?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Pointing out that just because I work in a grocery store, doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I have an art degree, it just doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Oh.” Yusuf looked contrite. “Sorry.”

Eames smiled graciously and decided to pretend the conversation hadn’t taken place. “So, do you want me to drive on Friday, or should I get a ride with you?”

“You’re coming back to game night?”

“A man needs hobbies. I thought I’d branch out.”

 

* * *

 

Eames thought it’d be best if he showed up with food again. After his shift, he dropped by Safeway and picked up a large bag of cheesy poofs, some Doritos, and a case of Monster.

He figured even if someone else brought the same things, they’d all get eaten eventually. And it would score him some more points with Ari — and with any luck, Arthur as well.

When Arthur opened the door, the first thing out of his mouth was, “Hey, you brought real snacks!”

Mission accomplished.

“And caffeine,” Eames made sure to add.

“What’d you bring?” Arthur asked Yusuf.

“Eames,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll let you off then. But you’re falling down on the snack side of things.”

They went inside.

“Ari’s running late, she got stuck at work. She’ll be here in a bit.”

“Did you get dinner already?” Yusuf said.

“Yeah. Didn’t you eat?”

“Snacks are fine.”

“You should eat some real food, man.”

“He’s like this at work too,” Eames said. “Lives on junk food. You should give him your apples.”

“Ugh. Shut up, Eames,” Yusuf muttered. “You sound like my mother.”

“She also said you should phone more.”

“Ha, bloody ha.”

“C’mon,” Arthur said, “we can get started without her.”

Yusuf went first, blasting his way through enemy territory with a lack of finesse that had Arthur laughing his head off.

“Been taking lessons from Eames?”

“Have I run into any doors?” Yusuf snapped back.

Eames lounged back on the couch with a smile and waited for his turn at the controller.

Yusuf had admitted defeat and Arthur was at the controller when Ari showed up.

“Hey, losers,” she said as she came in, not bothering to knock on the unlocked door. “Miss me?”

“Depends,” Arthur said without taking his eyes off the screen. “Did you bring food?”

“No, but you love me for my cheap games, so you’ll overlook it,” she said, and flashed them all a grin.

“True.”

“Oh, about that. Corporate won’t let me hold back copies of the new game next week. You guys are gonna have to stand in line to get it. Sorry.”

“What?” Arthur said, as he whipped around to look at her and promptly ran his character into a wall. Eames smirked. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You always hold them.”

“Sorry, not this time. New rules from on high.”

“Since when do you give a crap about rules?”

She shrugged. “Need the paycheck.”

“Ugh, the last thing I want to do is spend Monday night camped outside the store.”

“Oh, grow up,” she said. “You can bring me snacks and defend my honor against all the entitled assholes I’ll have to deal with.”

“Like you need defending —”

“— and I know you’ll take Tuesday off to play, so don’t try pulling that ‘I have a real job and need my sleep’ bullshit.”

Arthur gave her a sheepish look. “I put in for it months ago.”

“Me too,” Yusuf said.

“Am I the only one working on Tuesday?” Eames said.

“Probably the only one who games,” Ari replied. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your schedule changed.”

“Ugh. There’s no way — Nathan’s out next week so we’re short to begin with.”

“Don’t worry,” Yusuf said, “I’ll let you know how amazing it is when I come back on Wednesday, three levels ahead of you.”

“What about pre-orders? Do they have to wait in line?” Arthur said.

“Nope, just everyone else.”

“What the fuck, Ari? If I’d known, I would have preordered!”

She shrugged. “Sorry. Only found out today.”

Arthur glared at her.

“Don’t forget I let you use my employee discount, asshole.”

“Oh, yeah —”

“— which is why you’ll have snacks for me when you get in line,” she added brightly.

“You’re evil,” he said. “Let me know which ones.”

“Oh, and one copy per person, so you’ll all have to be there.”

“What?” cried Yusuf.

“Oh, so it’s fine when I have to stand in line, but not you?”

“It’s not like you’re on your feet all day, unpacking boxes.”

Eames watched the conversation like a umpire at a tennis match. “I’ll just come in and get one on Tuesday night,” he said to Ari. “It’s not like a day’ll make a difference in my case.”

“They’re expecting it to sell out,” she replied. “You’ll have to line up as well.”

“Oh.” Actually, the prospect of hanging out with Arthur for a few hours was quite appealing. “Well, needs must,” he said brightly. Then he added, “Anyone else want some of those cheesy things?” as he got up and headed for the kitchen.

“I’ll have some,” Ari said.

“Yeah, me too,” Arthur chimed in, busy killing things again.

“Just bring the whole bag,” Yusuf said.

“Vegetables, Yusuf. You should eat vegetables,” said Eames, but tossed him the unopened bag anyway.

“I think these have corn in them.”

“Not the same.”

Arthur was deep in concentration as he tried to beat the level on challenge mode.

As soon as he finished, Ari flicked a cheesy poof at his head. “Okay, code monkey, let Eames have a go.”

Eames looked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, if you want to.”

“Of course! I want to show off my new controller-handling skills.” Arthur gave him an odd look, which was exactly what Eames had hoped for from the innuendo-tinged line. He couldn’t resist, and added, “Of course, my joystick-handling skills are much better …”

Yusuf and Ari burst out laughing, while Arthur stared, open-mouthed.

“You get a lot more practice with your joystick, my friend,” Yusuf said.

At that, Arthur started laughing as well. Eames gave him a wide grin and took the controller.

The practice had paid off. He was nowhere near as good as the rest of them, but at least he wasn’t dying every ten seconds, or running into walls. He wanted to glance over at Arthur to gauge his reaction, but it was hard to do without getting himself shot, so he focused on the game. No one was laughing hysterically, so that was a good sign.

When he’d completed three levels, he handed the controller back to Arthur with a satisfied grin.

“I’m impressed, Eames. Were you holding out on us last week?”

“No, I really was terrible, so I bought a console and practiced.”

“You what?”

“I figured if you wanted to make fun of me, I was going to make you work for it.”

“You … huh? That’s fucked up.”

So perhaps it wasn’t the best thing he could have said. He should have chosen something about ‘wanting to be better at the game,’ but it was true.

Ari gave him a knowing look, then said, “Okay, my turn. Next week it’s all new anyway, so tonight’s your last chance for glory on this one.” She started the level and then hit the pause button. “Did anyone bring cake?”

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

They’d made plans to meet at ten on Monday night at the Game Stop. Arthur had folding camp chairs, and Eames was bringing the snacks. (Ari had proclaimed he was ‘better at snacks’ than Arthur was.) Yusuf was bringing his iPad with movies on it.

Eames got there at 9:45, just to be on the safe side, and was worried to see a line already forming near the door. He grabbed the bag of food and hurried over, as if other people would materialize out of thin air as he neared the store.

He took his place at the end of the line and wondered if he could ‘hold’ it with his food to go in and see Ari. He didn’t have to wonder long, because she came outside.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t know there’d be this many people,” she said.

“Yeah. Think there’ll be enough copies?”

She nodded. “This’ll be fine. If it starts going around the corner, we’re screwed.”

“What happens then?”

“I lock the door and hope no one tries to beat it down.”

“Seriously?”

“You have no idea. People are savages.”

“Christ. Well, if it looks like that’ll happen, I’ll stay and help.”

“Normally I wouldn’t accept offers to protect my maidenly virtue, but I might take you up on that. It might save getting the police involved if I had someone more intimidating around,” she said, grinning.

“Anytime. Here, have some junk food.”

“Thought you’d never offer.” She dug through the bag and extracted far more calories than any human should be able to consume in one sitting. “Okay, I need to go. Hiromi’s in there but I’m not really supposed to leave. Tell Arthur I said hi.”

He gave her an odd look. “… and Yusuf?”

“Uh, yeah. Yusuf, too.”

Arthur showed up at ten on the nose and dragged the chairs over. The crowd hadn’t grown much over the course of fifteen minutes, so it wasn’t too egregious when he jumped the line. There was some grumbling from a few people but no one seemed to want to challenge Eames, probably intimidated by his bulk.

“Hey,” said Arthur, “you got here early. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I see Yusuf is late.”

“Give him a few. Not everyone can be the paragon of punctuality you are,” he said playfully, hoping Arthur knew he was being funny and not sarcastic.

“He’d never make a good programmer - I can hear it now: ‘It passed some of the test cases, sometimes.’”

“You’d never make an artist.”

“Hey …” said Arthur, sounding offended.

“People are good at different things. It’s not a value judgement.”

“What, and I suppose you could be an artist?”

“Well …”

“Well what?” Arthur said.

“I am, actually, an artist.”

“Oh. Well that fucking figures.”

Eames smiled and tried to lighten the increasingly dark tone of the conversation. “Sorry, I was the one who brought it up. Cheesy poof?” he said, offering him the bag.

Arthur gave him a reluctant smile. “Sure. What else have you got in there?”

“Cupcakes. And peanut butter filled pretzels. Oh, and Doritos. Did you have dinner?”

“I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have.”

“Ari already took all three of the chocolate cupcakes though. Sorry.”

“Three of them?”

He shrugged. “You know how she is. Anyway, I think she’ll need the sugar.”

They chatted aimlessly about things for a while, not realizing until 10:20 that Yusuf still hadn’t showed up.

“I hope he’s okay,” said Eames, and got out his phone and sent him a message. He got a reply almost immediately. “Huh,” he said, looking at his phone in confusion.

“What?”

“He said Ari called him and told him not to come, that she’d save him a copy.”

“What the fuck?”

Eames frowned. “That explains her earlier comment.”

“… which was?”

“She said to say hi to you, but she didn’t mention Yusuf. When I pointed it out, she looked a bit sheepish. Guess that’s why.”

“I’m gonna kill her. Why should I have to sit here for two hours?”

“We,” Eames corrected him.

“What?”

“Why should ‘we’ have to sit here for two hours.”

“Yeah, I guess. But mostly me. I don’t care if you sit here for two hours.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

Arthur frowned at him and said, “You don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you.”

“You just said you don’t care if I sit here for two hours.”

“Well yes, but —”

“— but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a high opinion of you. That was your phrase. I’d say you don’t value my time or the unique perspective I bring to the gaming group as an inexperienced player.”

Arthur stared at him for a second, dumbfounded, then said, “What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m trying to let you slide on your social skills, but sometimes you’re just plain rude.”

“Oh. I am?”

“You are.”

“Oh.” Arthur sat quietly for a second then added, “I’m sorry. I’m not good with people sometimes.”

Eames smiled warmly at him. “It’s fine. They pay me to do it every day, so I have more experience.”

“Then maybe you should be the one to ask Ari what the hell she thinks she’s doing, so it’s less rude.”

“Yeah,” he said, although he was starting to think he knew was she was playing at, and he wasn’t upset in the least. “Look at it this way — Yusuf won’t get the game until tomorrow at the earliest. You’ll have at least eight hours on him. Probably longer.”

“Huh. You’re right.”

“And if you piss her off, she’ll probably pull your discount,” Eames added.

“But he was the one bringing movies. We’ll have to sit here and talk for the next hour and a half.”

Eames made a mental note to buy Ari some more cupcakes. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

And they did. Eames got a crash course in the history of video-gaming, an analysis of the Seattle area tech industry, and some unexpectedly strong opinions on organic produce. In turn, he educated Arthur on the basics of art history and weight training. He was shamelessly flexing one of his arms — Arthur had seemed interested, who was he to hold back? — when Arthur spotted one of his tattoos.

“Ha!”

“What?”

“Yusuf said you had tattoos.”

“When did that come up?”

Arthur looked embarrassed. “Never mind. Can I see it?”

It was a warm night, so he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, but there was no way he could show him the whole thing without taking it off. He pushed the sleeve up as far as it would go instead.

“Wow, that’s pretty cool. Tribal?”

“Sort of. I designed it myself.”

“Huh. Can I … touch it?”

Eames had to stifle a laugh, as his brain unhelpfully supplied all kinds of comebacks, all of them salacious. He managed to tame down ‘You can touch anything you’d like’ into “Of course.”

Arthur’s fingers traced the swirls of ink along his bicep and he reminded himself that this wasn’t going anywhere. This was intellectual curiosity about his tattoos. This was a by-product of their discussion. This was —

— but then Arthur stopped using his fingertips and rubbed his whole hand across Eames’ bicep. It was warm and blindingly distracting.

“How many days a week do you work out to look like this?”

Eames struggled to focus on the question and not on Arthur’s hand, which was still there. Being distracting. “Um, three. Usually.”

“How much can you bench press?”

“About 275.”

Arthur gave a low, short laugh and then quickly composed himself. “That’s impressive.”

“Thanks.” When Arthur didn’t say anything else, he added, “Why is that funny?”

With a half-grin on his face, he replied, “You’d be able to bench-press me.”

The mental image of it made Eames nearly fall out of his chair. “Um … yeah. That’s … well. I probably could. Yes.”

_Just shut up_ , he thought. _You’re going to make an ass of yourself._ He could feel his cheeks getting warm. He needed to regain control of the situation. Smiling sweetly, he looked at Arthur and said, “Is that something you’d like to try?”

This, unfortunately, was enough of a shock to get Arthur to remove his hand from its happy place on Eames’ bicep, where he’d grown quite fond of it.

“It was a theoretical thing. It doesn’t seem very practical,” Arthur said, backpedaling now.

“Probably not, but it might be fun to try.”

“They’d probably frown on that at the gym.”

And before Eames could think about it, he replied, “Wouldn’t have to be at the gym.” And then, his brain kicked in with _‘Eames, you idiot’_ followed quickly by _‘he started it.’_

Fortunately, just then Ari showed up and prevented the conversation from escalating — or crashing and burning — any further.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?”

They both looked up at her guiltily.

“Good,” Eames said.

“Yeah, good,” Arthur added, sounding a little strained.

“You guys getting along okay?”

“Yeah,” they said in unison.

“That’s the idea.”

Eames grinned, realizing he’d been right about her motives all along. Perhaps he could set her up with a recurring supply of baked goods for her efforts.

“What?” Arthur said, sounding suspicious.

“Nothing. Oh hey, I talked to Yusuf. He couldn’t make it. I’ll get a copy to him later.”

“Actually,” Arthur replied archly, “when we talked to him, he said you told him not to come.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. He can’t even get his story right.”

Eames relaxed back into his chair and chuckled, watching both of them get worked up about it.

“So we have to wait here while he gets to screw around at home? What the hell?”

“Look, so I’m doing this class on hacking this semester,” she said.

“And? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Part of it is on social engineering. You know, getting friendly with people so you can find out their passwords and shit.”

“And?”

“Well, if Eames is going to game with us, and you’re going to be a dick to him every time he does, I don’t want to have to deal with it. So I ‘socially engineered’ some enforced togetherness.” She gave them a huge, pasted-on grin — one that dared them to fuck with her. “You seem to be getting along pretty well now, so I’m guessing it worked.”

“Yeah,” said Eames, “I think it worked.”

“Don’t worry about Yusuf,” she said, “he won’t get to play it until tomorrow. You still come out ahead.” She gave Eames a wicked grin. “Way ahead.”

 

* * *

 

Everyone’s phones silently ticked over to midnight, and Ari unlocked the doors. It wasn’t the battlefield stampede Eames had expected, but they’d probably dealt with Ari before and knew not to cross her.

Once the two of them had their copies, she had Eames count the rest of the people in line. It was one game per person, so it was easy enough to figure out if they were going to have a situation on their hands.

They weren’t, by about twenty copies. “This is great,” she said. “I won’t have to call the cops this year.”

“I would have done bouncer duty, you know.”

“Yep. Don’t think you’re getting out of it in the future. It helps to have a friend who’s ripped.”

The last half of that seemed to be for Arthur’s benefit, but he was opening the box and completely oblivious.

“You guys should take off,” she said. “Go get started.” There was an edge of something not-quite-innocent to the statement.

“I know,” Arthur replied, “I’ve been waiting for this to come out for months.”

Behind him, Ari shook her head and shrugged at Eames in a ‘what can you do?’ motion.

Eames was about to protest that he had to work in six hours. Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t taken the day off. Then he realized that Ari would kill him, having put in all this work to set them up (or whatever this was). And besides, he’d worked shifts half-dead before. Recently even. Because of gaming. And this one would be because of Arthur. Well, assuming Arthur managed to get a clue in the next thirty seconds.

“I’m jealous,” Ari said. “I won’t get home ’til two.”

“Yeah, thanks for doing this,” Eames said. “Much appreciated.”

“Yeah,” said Arthur. “Okay, see you guys later. Let me know how far you get, Ari.”

Arthur and that clue had not made their appointed rendezvous.

“Arthur …” said Eames.

“Hm?”

“Maybe I could come over and we could play together?”

“When?”

“Right now.”

“But you’d just slow me down,” he said, looking confused.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ari muttered.

“You could show me how to play the new levels, and every now and again we could take a break and talk about weight training. Or tattoos.”

“Oh. Shit.” A look of realization, and then embarrassment, crossed Arthur’s face. “Yeah, um, totally. Should have thought of that.”

“There we go,” said Ari.

Eames grinned.

 

* * *

 

“So she set us up, huh?” Arthur said.

“It looks that way, yeah. But —”

“— what?”

“— well, it’s up to us, yeah? It’s not like this has to go anywhere.”

“Do you … want it to?”

“I’m always happy to discuss weight training,” Eames said, trying to be as subtly unsubtle as possible.

“What about tattoos?”

“Those too,” he said, grinning.

“Good. Meet you at my place?”

They got in their cars and headed back, leaving Eames to wonder what the hell he’d dropped himself into.

He decided to let Arthur be the one to initiate anything. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. He wasn’t looking for a hookup, either, and he didn’t want Arthur to think he was. He didn’t really know what he wanted. Some fooling around would be nice, though. Was that unreasonable?

He wasn’t sure what to expect when they got back to Arthur’s place — it wasn’t for Arthur to immediately dart to his machine to put the game in and ask him to go get some Monster. (Although, in hindsight, this was exactly what he should have expected.)

When the game loaded, Arthur made a sound of approval that was almost sexual. “Dude, check out the graphics. They’re so much better!”

Any thoughts of weightlifting apparently vanished from Arthur’s mind as he focused intently on the television, lost in the new story. Eames didn’t mind — it gave him a chance to check him out without being observed. Yeah, he’d definitely hit that. Theoretically. Or whatever.

It wasn’t until Arthur had finished the entire first level that he seemed to remember Eames was there.

Eames had finished his observations and decided that Arthur sprawled on the couch like that was a criminal waste of a really nice ass.

“Oh, sorry,” Arthur said. “Pretty awesome, huh?”

_‘Your ass or the game?’_ Eames thought, but grinned and said, “Yeah.”

“Want a go?”

_The game. He means the game._ “Sure.”

Arthur handed him the controller and went to get some snacks while Eames created a new character. He heard him messing around in the kitchen, but then the noise stopped. He turned around to see what was up. Arthur was looking at him nervously.

“What?” Eames said.

“So here’s the thing …”

“Yes?”

“I don’t … I’m not into … I don’t want some sort of big romantic relationship thing.”

“Okay,” Eames said.

“I’m not good with people, and it’s hard enough managing that stuff at work.”

Eames waited for him to continue, because it looked like he was going to.

“It’s just … I’m not into hookups either. I mean sex with strangers is just, ugh.”

“I completely agree,” Eames said.

“You do?”

“Yeah. And I know I’m older than you, but I’m not in the ‘settle down and adopt kids’ stage of my life, either.”

“Oh. So this doesn’t have to be a ‘thing?’”

“It can be whatever we want. It can be ‘gamer buddies with benefits.’”

“Anything else would be negotiated.”

Eames raised an eyebrow. He thought they’d just agreed ‘anything else’ was off the table, but … okay. If it ended up there one day, he’d reconsider his ‘no relationships’ ideology. “Yeah. Strictly sexual.”

“Really?”

“Swear.”

Arthur abandoned what he’d been doing in the kitchen and practically did a diving tackle toward the couch. Eames had been happy about the direction the conversation was taking, but he hadn’t expected the results to be that … immediate. He found himself flat on his back, a wildly grinning Arthur a few inches from his face.

“You sure?” Arthur said.

Instead of answering, he dropped the game controller on the floor and pulled Arthur down onto him properly.

And, in a moment that would ruin weight training for Eames forever, Arthur said, “Are you going to bench press me?”

Eames couldn’t help it — he started laughing. When he stopped long enough to breathe, Arthur kissed him. And when they stopped kissing, Eames said, “Yes.”

“What?”

“You want me to bench-press you? I can do that.”

“Well, it was really just code for fooling around. I wasn’t thinking you’d actually do that.”

“No, c’mon. How hard can it be?” Eames said.

As it turned out, pretty hard. A human body is not as easy to grip as a weight bar, certainly not if the person is lying on their stomach. Although, when they tried with Arthur on his back, Eames was able to confirm that his ass was just as excellent as he’d hoped.

He managed two reps before his human barbell lost his structural rigidity and collapsed on top of him in a fit of giggles. The whole thing devolved into a make-out session on the couch, and then a slightly-more-than-make-out session in Arthur’s bed.

They were both lying there in a post-orgasmic haze when Arthur said, “Shit.”

“Hm?”

“What time is it?”

“No idea, but I don’t have to be at work ’til 6.”

“No. Now Ari’s going to be ahead of me in the game.”

“And I just gave you an amazing blow-job.”

“You’re right. Priorities.” There was a long pause. “Next time you could blow me while I play the game.”

“Only if you return the favor.”

“Huh,” Arthur said. “I wonder if that would kill my performance?”

“Gaming or sexual?”

Arthur gave him a wry look. “Gaming. I don’t think sexual will be an issue.”

“We could try it and see.”

“Your gaming is already so bad it couldn’t get worse,” Arthur teased.

Eames rolled over and pinned him loosely to the bed. “Stop insulting my gaming or I’ll have to take strong measures,” he said, grinning.

Arthur leaned up and licked the tattoo on his arm. “Promise?”

“Ugh. I’m just shooting myself in the foot here, aren’t I?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m not that tired, you wanna go play some more?” Eames said.

“With or without the blow-job?”

“Up to you,” Eames said. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your performance.”

Arthur leaned up and kissed him again. “You know, I’m not sure I care if it does.”

 

* * *

 

Eames never did get any sleep before his shift. He didn’t make it home to change, either, but since he’d changed the previous day, no one at work knew that. And if he felt a little bleary, it wasn’t anything that the not-as-good-as-London Starbucks tea couldn’t fix.

He phoned Hoffman’s Bakery on his break and ordered one of their nice chocolate cakes, then texted Ari to see if he could stop by after he finished his shift.

**_[ari]_ ** _sure, everything okay?_

**[eames]** all fine. have something for you.

**_[ari]_ ** _oh good. worried about last night._

**[eames]** don’t.

She sent him her address.

When he got there, she was wearing her pajamas and looked a little wild-eyed.

“Have you slept yet?” he asked.

“No, but I drank four Monsters,” she said. “I should be able to keep going until at least midnight. I’m on level five.”

“You’re a better man than I,” said Eames.

“Damn right. What’d you bring me?”

He held out the white bakery box. “A thank-you present.”

She opened it and started laughing. “Oh my god, you’re the best. And it’s chocolate.”

“And geeky,” he added.

“That’s why you’re the best,” she said.

On the top of the cake, in computer-terminal font, were the words: “The cake is a lie.”

The people at Hoffman’s had thought he was nuts. (But seriously, this was Seattle; you’d have thought one of them would have been a gamer.)

“You want some?” she said, heading to the cabinet for plates.

“God, yeah. It looks delicious.”

“So, how’d it go last night? Did he ever get a clue?”

“Yeah, he got a clue,” Eames said, grinning.

“It's about fucking time. I practically had to lock you two in a room together.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, hopefully he’ll be nicer to you when you’re gaming now.”

Eames started laughing so hard he nearly had a coughing fit.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Like hell that was nothing.”

“Yeah, I think he’ll be nicer. We established a few ground rules.”

“Oh?”

“No gaming blow-jobs while Yusuf or Ari are in the apartment.”

She stared at him with wide eyes for a second before she burst out into laughter. “What are the other rules?”

“Well, there’s really just the one.”

“So he’s taking a less hard core approach to his playing now?”

“It depends how you define ‘hard core.’”

“Ha. Yeah, I guess it would. God, there are some things I just can’t unsee. In the grand scheme of things though, not a bad mental image to have.”

“You’re a bit of a perv,” said Eames.

“Yep. So, did you work out the whole ‘relationship’ thing?”

“Yeah. We’re doing ‘gamer buddies with benefits, with options for negotiation.’”

“Wow, do you need a lawyer for that?”

“No, it’s a web form.”

“Seriously though, you guys both okay with that?”

“Yeah, we really are.”

“Good. It’s good to be on the same page.” She cut into the cake with an, “Oh my god this looks incredible” and put two huge slices onto the plates. “This cake is not a lie.”

“Thanks for the con job on the games. They didn’t really change the policy about holding them, did they?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. You two were being clueless. Someone had to do it.”

“Yeah.”

“You realize you’ll be the one to hear about all his work stuff now.”

“I dunno, I think that falls into the ‘friend’ category, not the ‘fuckbuddy’ one.”

“Oh, you’re in both now. You should check your contract — I think you have at least 58 percent responsibility.”

“Damn. I knew I should have gone with a lawyer.”

“Gotta be careful. Those gaming blow-jobs will suck you in.”

“As it were,” said Eames.

“Ha,” she said, around a mouthful of cake.

They both ate in silence for a bit.

“I’m really happy for you guys,” she said.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I told you he was a nice guy.”

“You did. He’s just not very good with people.”

“Nope. And he has lousy taste in snacks. But I don’t hold that against him.”

“You seem to have won him over on the whole cheesy poof front.”

“So have you convinced Whole Foods to carry them yet?”

“No. I think it’s going to take customer intervention.”

“Do you have any cute coworkers?”

“That’s random.”

“Not really. Maybe you can hook me up with one of them. Introduce me. Whatever.”’

“Didn’t think you were into the whole organic hippie yoga thing.”

“Well, if you remember our earlier conversation, I’m not exactly looking for a life partner. The deal you guys have going on sounds pretty good.”

“So you want me to put something up on the whiteboard in the break room? Friend seeks gaming blow-jobs?”

“Yeah, something like that,” she said with a grin. Then she added, “Nah, I’ll come in sometime, point out the cute ones, and you can give me the scoop on whether or not they’re taken.”

“Deal.”

“Cool. I don’t meet many people at Game Stop. Well, none I’m interested in sleeping with anyway.”

“Yeah, not really surprising.”

“Oh, and tell Arthur he can’t abandon me after work and bitch to you instead.”

“We’re not in a relationship. Not doing ‘emotional stuff,’ remember?”

“Okay, well he can’t abandon me for blow-jobs after work. I need my snacks.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it.”

“Good,” she said.

“I, however, am going to abandon you right now, because I have a lot of sex to catch up on. And a new game to play. And a new not-boyfriend who wants to do both.”

“You brought me cake, so that seems fair.”

Eames grinned. “I knew you’d understand.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [chasingriversong](http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com)!


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